


Center of Attention

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: дезинформация [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Domestic Avengers, Hockey Hair Is Not An Option, M/M, Making Progress, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Hat of Choosing, Tony Stark's Brand of Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No.”</p><p>Bucky pressed his lips together tightly in an attempt to keep himself from busting up laughing, because the look on Tony’s face was priceless.</p><p>“No. No? What do you mean, <em>no</em>?”</p><p>Takes place after "<em>Waking Up</em>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Center of Attention

“No.”

Bucky pressed his lips together tightly in an attempt to keep himself from busting up laughing, because the look on Tony’s face was _priceless_.

“No. No? What do you mean, _no_?”

There just weren’t words to describe it, because Tony’s facial expressions were acrobatic at the best of times, but the mixture of irritation, surprise, confusion, and fear was just… Well, this was one of the things Bucky had come to realize he loved about the man. The little head shakes, and scrunched up faces, excited hand gestures coupled with squinty eyes that would suddenly go wide, followed by anything from what Clint had explained was “duck face” to Tony’s mouth hanging open in wonder or delight.

Natasha didn’t bother to repeat herself, simply arched one of her perfect eyebrows at Tony while she continued methodically destroying the last of the chocolate pudding.

“Hey, he’s _my_ boyfriend,” Tony insisted, “so, logic dictates…”

“Natasha is right, Tony,” Steve interrupted, pausing before taking another bite of his sandwich. This caused Tony to pull an epic ‘Et tu, Brute?’ face, one that had Bucky glad his hair was still long enough to hide behind while he fought off his laughter. “Bucky is still under wraps, more or less, and you’re, well,” and Steve sounded legitimately apologetic here, “ _not_.”

“This is unbelievable, you’re all totally not being believed by me right now.” Tony said, words tumbling out in quick succession. “I can, thank you, keep a low profile, uh, when I need to.”

Natasha set down her empty ramekin ( _impressively cleaned of every trace of pudding_ ), then her spoon, which made a controlled, somehow ominous _click_ as it came into contact with the surface of the table. The sound caused Tony to twitch as if she’d just chambered a round.

“Okay, fine, so I can’t think of an example for you, not off the top of my head, because—yeah—wasn’t exactly expecting to get railroaded at breakfast.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, Tony,” Steve felt the need to point out, smiling and shaking his head.

“ _My_ breakfast, I’m breaking _my_ fast, so technically…”

“Does cold, leftover coffee count as breakfast?” Steve asked, glancing over to Bucky to share a smile, his eyes seemingly saying, ‘what can you do about this guy?’ in a good natured way.

“I did see some grounds in there,” Bucky pointed out, folding his arms across his chest. “So at least there’s something to chew.”

Tony looked apoplectic now, cradling his mug close to his chest, as if it might have overheard them, and been insulted.

“It’s still good, so why not make use of it while I wait?” He gestured wildly behind himself to the counter where a pot was slowly being filled with fresh, fragrant coffee. “Steve practically licks everyone’s plates clean in order not to waste food, and no one says anything!”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Steve muttered, while Tony continued on, oblivious.

“This is bullshit of the highest degree, and I call shenanigans on all of you.” He pointed at each of them in turn, looping back to Bucky for a second time. “Especially you, mister.”

Bucky gave up on hiding his smile, held both of his hands up in the air in surrender. “Hey, leave me out.”

“Too late. You’re in so deep there’s no getting you out again,” Tony insisted, finger jabbing in Bucky’s direction once more.

“That’s what she said,” Clint interjected merrily, causing Tony’s head to slump forward as he groaned in the direction of his sneakers. Clint gave him a playful little jab in the side as he headed for the fridge.

“Really, birdbrain? You appear from the shadows in yet another attempt to give me a heart attack, and that’s your big contribution?”

There was the quiet, purposeful sound of Natasha rising, pushing her chair in under the table, and then suddenly Tony was standing at attention again, mouth firmly closed, expression petulant, but resigned. Bucky almost felt bad for him.

“I’m taking him.”

“Will you at least let me pick the place?” Tony asked, clearly having moved on to Compromise Mode, his tone even, and respectful.

“No.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, Natasha placed a finger over his lips, effectively silencing him. Shoulders slumping a bit, he pressed his mouth firmly closed again, folded his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the counter.

As Natasha began walking out of the room, Bucky followed, ruffling Tony’s hair as he passed, ignoring the way the man was glaring, lower lip shoved out to indicate his displeasure with this turn of events.

As he left, Bucky could hear Clint’s cry of, “Where’s all the pudding?” coming from behind him.

\+ + +

It wasn’t until she was behind the wheel of Tony’s Bugatti and pulling out into New York traffic that Natasha spoke again, saying out of nowhere, “You’re good for him.”

Bucky found himself smiling, thinking again of Tony’s exaggerated pout as they’d left, regretting not having given him a little smack on the back of the head for good measure.

“You think?” Natasha gave him a look, and Bucky laughed. “Right, you wouldn’t have said so, otherwise.”

“I don’t think Fury has figured it out yet,” Natasha continued, “although Coulson had you two pegged from the start.”

Bucky studied her profile. It was strange to think of anyone pegging him for anything at ‘the start.’ Each of those first days had felt like years, years of having to tell himself to stay put for just a little longer, that it was the best place for him, considering the capabilities of the people around him. He’d had JARVIS lock him in on more than one occasion, just so the temptation to run wouldn’t be quite as strong.

He was sure Coulson had kept an eye on his movements, was aware of the lack of sleep, the night terrors when sleep was finally inevitable, the long hours spent staring at his own reflection, trying to recognize something, anything in his own eyes.

It was strange to think of someone witnessing all of this, and still, based on the very limited contact he’d had with the Tower’s residents during his first few weeks there, declare that he and Tony were going to wind up together.

“Are we sure he doesn’t have super powers?”

Natasha smiled at this, gave a little half shrug. “He’s a good observer.”

“So, what you’re saying is that it was painfully obvious, except to the two idiots involved.”

“Not exactly,” Natasha conceded. “Steve probably should have figured it out as soon as Stark started being more careful in the field, though.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say to that. JARVIS had helpfully provided him with news footage of the Avengers battle with the Chitauri, and he’d be lying if he said the sight of Tony disappearing into the wormhole hadn’t featured in more than one of his nightmares since seeing it.

He’d kind of thought of that sacrifice as a big one off, though. He didn’t have access to the comms or S.H.I.E.L.D.’s recordings of their battles, having to settle for whatever news coverage he could find instead, and they tended to focus more on Captain America than anything else.

Bucky immediately thought back to the conversation from a week prior that had spurred today’s outing, the night of his most recent flashback ( _Clint’s words, his actions getting through to him in ways he hadn’t expected_ ), and the look that had been on Tony’s face when he spoke of giving up. It made him want to tell Natasha to turn the car around so he could go back, make sure he was okay, as if Tony was somehow in eminent danger of getting himself killed doing something ( _unnecessarily_ ) heroic.

“Hey,” Natasha said, simultaneously interrupting and reading his thoughts. “He’s fine.”

With a bit of effort, Bucky forced himself to relax, realizing his hands were gripping his thighs tightly enough that his flesh and blood hand was white knuckled.

“Was he…” he bit his lip, cutting off the question before he could ask it, discomfort winning out over curiousity.

“It was different with Pepper,” Natasha answered anyway, and Bucky shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “She loved him, but she never needed him.”

 _But I do_ , was the first thought that popped into Bucky’s head at this, because he did. It worried him sometimes, because needing was dangerous, might not even be healthy, but Tony acted like he needed him, too, and somehow that made it okay.

“Don’t overthink it,” Natasha continued, whipping through the traffic with a devilish smile. “Just keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing, because it’s working.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, counted to ten, exhaled, took another, and felt a bit better. “I’ve gotten so used to feeling like shit that being happy feels dangerous.”

“I know.”

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, tapped off a message, hit send, and stared out the window again. “So, Fury.”

“Steve and Phil will handle it when the time comes,” she answered smoothly. “You’ll still get a lecture on fraternization.” This gave him pause, but before he could ask, Natasha added, “It’s only a matter of time before you’re an Avenger.”

The idea was as exciting as it was terrifying. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t known that was the plan, way down the line. He wouldn’t be able to say no if Steve asked him, and they both knew it. Being on the team meant being able to actually keep an eye on Tony, and Steve, and the rest of his makeshift family, rather than sitting behind in the Tower during their battles, waiting to hear whether anyone was injured, or worse.

It was the other side of the coin that left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, the idea of lining someone up in his crosshairs, and pulling the trigger. It had been surreal enough during the war, realizing how good he was at something so very wrong. The years after certainly hadn’t helped matters any.

Steve had roped him into weekly sparring sessions as of late, and as much as his body rejoiced in the combat, as good as it felt to disconnect part of his brain and let his muscle memory and training take over, there was still the feeling of something wild and uncontrollable inside of him, begging to be taken off the chain and let loose. Worse still, that feeling had nothing to do with the Winter Soldier, and everything to do with James Buchanan Barnes.

“Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Not sure you have to feel anything about it right now,” she countered. “You’re not ready yet. But you will be.”

Bucky’s phone vibrated in his hand, and he looked down to see, _Already over it. Don’t let Nat talk you into a dye job. Also, not sure I can take mullets seriously. Avoid hockey hair at all cost_. And just like that, the melancholy slipped further away.

“What’s hockey hair?” he asked, and beside him Natasha laughed loudly.

\+ + +

It wasn’t until they were there that Bucky realized Natasha and Steve had been right, and it was better that Tony had stayed behind. The salon was crowded, and he and Natasha got looks from a fair number of the patrons as they entered together. She assured him they were checking him out for reasons that had nothing to do with his arm, which was hidden under his shirt and glove, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.

If Tony had taken two steps into the place, people would have been snapping photos with their phones, and it all would have gone downhill from there. By the time they finished up, it’d wind up on one of the trashy tabloid news shows Clint was so fond of watching— _Who Is Tony Stark’s Mysterious New Boy Toy?_ —which was just about the last thing Bucky needed.

Spending most of his time in the Tower as he did, it was easy for Bucky to forget Tony was a celebrity. He’d seen some of the press conferences, but that world and the Tony he saw on the TV felt disconnected from the man he spent so much of his time with.

The salon had little in common with the barber shops of Bucky’s past, and he was content to allow Natasha to do the talking, just sit there and focus on remaining calm, trying to channel his inner Bruce. Logically, he knew none of the people around him were a threat, but he brought danger with him wherever he went, wrapped up tightly inside of himself.

It was mildly disturbing, yet equally familiar, having a stranger touch him in order to get a feel for the texture of his hair, pulling it up and away from his face while chatting with Natasha, before sending him back to have it washed. Then it was yet another stranger, their fingers working shampoo into his hair, massaging his scalp, trying to make small talk and getting nowhere. The position left him with his throat bared, head tipped back, warm water and pleasant smells doing little to calm the wild beating of his heart.

Natasha remained within his line of sight, a red haired beacon of hope in his peripheral vision, something to focus on instead of the sound of the scissors, or the proximity of them to his face. The fact that he was able to remain relatively calm throughout the experience was testament to his faith and trust in Natasha; she wasn’t about to let any harm come to him. He distracted himself with reviewing his potential pathways for escape, items nearby that could be used as weapons, reminded himself again and again that Natasha was capable of incapacitating him if something happened.

Only nothing happened, except that slowly, he found himself focusing on the person he saw reflected in the mirror opposite, no longer hidden behind dark strands of hair. Handsome enough. Nice eyes, if a little sad, a little lost looking. It wasn’t Steve’s Bucky, or HYDRA’s Winter Soldier he saw, but someone else.

He wondered how Tony would react to the new look—he’d seemed to enjoy playing with the longer hair, now that Bucky thought about it—and just like that, his expression shifted, and the person in the mirror looked like he had a place in the world, less like a ghost, and more like him.

“Well whaddya know,” he said quietly, and beside him, Natasha made a soft, amused noise.

\+ + +

“Allow me to be the first in the Tower to compliment you on your new hairstyle, sir,” JARVIS intoned pleasantly once Bucky and Natasha entered the elevator. “It quite suits you.”

“Thanks, J.”

“I’m happy to smack Clint if he carries on,” Natasha offered, noticing how JARVIS’s words had made Bucky squirm and rub a hand self consciously over the back of his neck. “Just give the word.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s just a haircut,” but they both knew how exposed he felt, even though he liked the new look. He’d get used to the change soon enough, but for right now, the less attention the better.

Of course, as expected, when they entered the common area, everyone gathered around in order to get a look, Thor almost knocking him over with a brotherly slap on the back.

“I shall miss braiding your hair of an evening, my friend,” he proclaimed, “but fear not! You are still quite pleasing to the eye.”

“Thanks,” and it was hard not to laugh at this, especially with one of Steve’s arms around his shoulders, as he said, “I think we’ll _all_ miss Thor braiding your hair.”

One person was conspicuously absent, though, and that was Tony. As he allowed himself to be dragged over to the couches, Bucky decided he’d give it twenty minutes or so before he went and found the man; he was probably lost in the middle of a project, unaware of how much time had passed.

“I still think a mohawk was the way to go,” Clint lamented, shaking his head and pointing the remote at Bucky for emphasis. “Missed opportunity, big time.”

To Bucky, it felt like all eyes were on him, despite his friends’ obvious attempts to avoid being blatant about their staring, so it was a relief when he heard the elevator hum to life behind him. Clint glanced over as the doors opened, then did a double take, his eyes wide.

“What the everloving fuck?” he said, just as Tony announced loudly, “I don’t care how good you look, consider yourself officially outdone, James.”

Clint was on his feet even as Bucky turned on the couch in order to see what the fuss was about, the room erupting in chatter. Any lingering concerns Bucky had about being the center of attention for the rest of the evening were wiped off the map the second he saw Tony, who had also gotten a haircut, but more importantly, perhaps…

“Anthony, your mighty beard!” Thor bellowed.

“You _shaved_ ,” Clint added unnecessarily, as Tony basked in the attention.

Bucky found himself smiling a little wider each time Tony’s eyes darted over to gauge his reaction. He slowly made his way around the couch in order to join the group, ignoring the banter between Tony and Clint, focused instead on the heavy thumping of his own heart.

Personally, he liked Tony’s beard, but there was something compelling about seeing him clean shaven, especially knowing Tony had done it to draw unwanted attention off of himself. Unable to help himself, and not feeling particularly inclined to be shy, Bucky grabbed hold of Tony’s tie and used it to pull him in close, dropping a kiss onto his mouth.

“Well, hello,” Tony purred.

It was strange, not feeling the beard, the naked smoothness of the skin around his mouth prompting Bucky to do it again, which in turn caused Clint to make exaggerated gagging noises before returning to bask in the glow of the television, the others following suit.

“You like?” Tony asked. He curled a hand around the nape of Bucky’s neck, worked his fingers into the short hairs there, sending shivers down his spine. Bucky cupped Tony’s face and kissed him again by way of answering, tugging on Tony’s lower lip with his teeth.

“I like. It’s different,” Bucky said softly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of the beard.”

“It’ll be back,” Tony said, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, tousling it playfully, a goofy smile on his face. Bucky felt himself smiling in return as Tony added, “You look _great_ , by the way.”

“Thank you.”

Tony waggled his eyebrows, saying, “Ah ah, I should be thanking you; I’m the one who gets to look at you, after all.”

Bucky brought his mouth to Tony’s ear, saying softly, “You know what I’m talking about.”

An actual look of embarrassment flitted across his features for a moment before he got it under wraps, and it made Bucky unreasonably happy to have spotted it. “Yeah, well, unlike some people, I enjoy being the center of attention.”

It was painfully clear their friends were trying their best to ignore their quiet, intimate conversation. Bucky considered making it even easier on them by dragging Tony into the elevator in order to head somewhere more private, but his stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, causing Tony to laugh.

“Right, that won’t do,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together. “Clint,” he shouted, ignoring the, “dude, I’m right _here_ , why are you shouting?” he got in response, continuing on with, “time to order take out! Get The Hat of Choosing.”

A cheer went up from Thor and Clint, a groan from Steve, who suggested he could just cook instead, while Natasha reminded everyone that it was Bruce’s turn to pick from the hat. Bucky felt his smile get a little wobbly at the edges, hit upside the heart by the realization that—despite everything awful that had happened to him, or to others because of him—somehow, this was his home, and these people were his family.

Thankfully, before he could get too overwhelmed, Tony gave him a playful smack on the ass on his way back into the living room.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, Bucky is totally going to let his hair grow back, because I'm a total sucker for the long hand, and Thor wants to braid it, so... Would _you_ deny Thor what he wants? I didn't think so!


End file.
